


Cleric of Something

by CadetDru



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Ancient Rome, Cults, Episode: e156 In Memoriam (Rusty Quill Gaming), Gen, Lolomg, Other London, Time Travel, founder - Freeform, harlequins - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: Zolf's dreams are simple enough. He hadn't known Sasha long, but they'd gone through a lot together.  Any one moment was enough to have wake up in tears.  Knowing that she was long dead and long gone just guaranteed it still.
Relationships: Sasha Racket & Zolf Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Cleric of Something

Zolf couldn't be around anyone while he heard Sasha's words.He had been waiting for her to come back.He had been hoping that she'd be just behind Hamid somehow.Wilde had read the letter out loud.Azu and Hamid had stayed there, clinging to each other, listening to Wilde try to deliver Sasha's words without mocking her tone.Zolf had listened from outside the door.

Zolf took the letter.He didn't have any more right to it than anyone else; probably had less claim. It didn't matter; it was his. If anyone wanted to argue about , they'd just be giving Zolf the excuse he wasn't looking for. 

Hamid brought him whiskey and emotions.Zolf had drank with Hamid, carried the drunken halfling back to the halfling's own bed. 

Zolf fell asleep, practically sober.He wasn't looking forward to his dreams, the same swirl of memories and recriminations that he always had.

Poseidon didn't visit Zolf in his dreams any more.Zolf was still a cleric, but it felt far away sometimes.He didn't know what was going on.He'd explained it as being his own inspiration. He could explain a lot of things to other people. He couldn't explain these dreams, but the letter made it seem more or less complicated.

Zolf's dreams are simple enough. He hadn't known Sasha long, but they'd gone through a lot together.Any one moment was enough to have wake up in tears.Knowing that she was long dead and long gone just guaranteed it still. 

Here he is stopping to help her win a fight she might have won anyway.An auspicious start to a good working partnership, a good way to help someone rise up out of Other London.Gods come in the guise of distraught humans sometimes.It's a good cover.She didn't mean it then. 

Here he is screaming at Poseidon to save her life. Throwing his armor and trident back at that useless god, demanding blood to salt the water. Sacrificing for the new and old gods at the same time.He saved her then.It was a terrible day, but that memory bloomed within him.That had been the death of his connection with Poseidon, for all that he had thought they were reconnecting. 

Here he is reassembling her, healing her, restoring her life underneath what would be known as Mr. Ceiling. It had worked for a while, longer than it had any right to. 

Here he is as he reckons how to work with and around his varying lack of legs.Here she is literally bearing him on his back, a good savior and a good god.

Here he is healing her. Here he is talking to her. Here he is fighting alongside her. 

Here he is encouraging her to hope, to believe, to fight, to try.Here she is encouraging him to do the same.

Here he is leaving, not able to lead anyone any more. Here she is telling him that she understands.She stays with the group, what will remain of it. She takes care of Hamid since he's refusing to do it.

Here she is, in his dreams, in the shadows, specially brought in just for her to hide. This isn't a memory.This is where the dream proper is beginning. Then she peels out to look at him. She's wearing dark robes instead of the leather he'd last seen her in. "Alright, boss?" she says.She looks older than him, older than he'd ever expected to see here -- probably older than anyone in Other London would ever have lived to. Maybe even older than the Sasha who'd written them that letter. 

"Alright, Sasha?" he says with what he hopes is only a small gulp.

"What's that in your hand?" Sasha says.

He's holding the letter. "It's been thousands of years since you've been alive," Zolf says. "You're really here, talking to me, just to cheer me up?"

"You're not the first Harlequin who's seen me in a dream," she says. "At first their faith wasn't as strong, which makes sense, but... now it's all lined up.It got weird there, for a while, for the time that I was alive out there but still... it got weird."

"Their faith..."He can see his faith, hope, belief, doubt, fear, guilt, and grief swirling through him, clouds under his skin seeping out into the space around them. 

"Maybe not good to talk about other gods and all." She nods. "Poseidon gonna come drown us, then?"

"I think you're safe this time."

"That was a good little boat you built, boss," Sasha says. "It was incredible. And we lived."

"Barely."

"And then with Mr. Ceiling I was dead and you got me back," Sasha says.

"Without Poseidon, I'm nothing. I should be nothing."

"Without Poseidon, you're still you," Sasha says. "Oure the one who saved me, not him. I wouldn't have made it out of Other London without you."

"Anyone could've done."

"Anyone didn't," Sasha says. "You did. And Apophis said that I'm good, and that I've done good work, so you should get credit for whatever I've done because you're still my boss."

Zolf doesn't appreciate the name of a Meritocrat being dragged into his dreams, but he doesn't want to upset Sasha.He's too aware of everything, he knows this is a dream, and she doesn't feel like a dream or a memory. It's the same old story of his god giving him cryptic messages through enigmatic smile.

"I wish I could see things the way you do," Zolf says.

"I wish I'd spent more time with you," she says. The pain in her voice sounds genuine, but echoe the memories of so many of their few interactions. "I could've done so much more with your help. You taught me so much."

He mumbles his thanks somewhere dowand to the left of her dream-floating space.

"What do you believe in?" Sasha says.

Zolf sighs. "Me," he says quickly. "And you.The real you.Not this dream version. Your friend who tells you that you have a choice in what you do is probably a better source of strength in a crisis if you've already rejected your god."

"That's great," she says brightly. "Believe in yourself, believe in me... just believe. You should find a Harlequin, ask them about their god. They have a quiet little cult of Ava going.I talked one of them into having daggers be a holy symbol. Don't know how many clerics or paladins they have where and when you are.I know you're good enough, you believe enough.You believed in me the regular way before, when no one else would.Now you can believe in me again."

Zolf's breath catches, in and out of his dream. "Sasha..."

"I believe in you, boss," she says.

There are tears in his pillow when he wakes up. The letter is under his pillow where he's childishly decided to hide it.


End file.
